The MiddleEarth Characters' Asylum
by Kythi Ravenswing
Summary: Two girls decide to rescue the ME characters from the dangerous world of fanfiction and set them safe in a glomp-free asylum. Chaos ensues. Join Phoebe and Hannah-Leah on their dangerous, difficult, and slightly insane adventures. T to be safe
1. Thou Shalt Not Make Long Names

Disclaimer: My name is not J

**Disclaimer**: My name is not J. R. R. Tolkien. Hint. Hint.

**And the other Disclaimer, which isn't quite as necessary:** This is not a spinoff of the PPC, but I completely owe the idea to the amazing adventures of Jay and Acacia-and, by part, to OFUM, since I got to the PPC through OFUM's website. If you have no idea what I'm talking about, read both "The Official Fanfiction University of Middle Earth" and the adventures of the PPC, which I don't think has an official title.

Wow! That was a long disclaimer.

Anyhow, settle in, get a cup of coffee/hot chocolate/tea/etc., settle in, and please please please _please_ enjoy "The Middle-Earth Characters' Asylum"!

Or you could just call it MECA. Or Meckah, as Phoebe likes to call it. Or just "that fic."

Oh, what the heck. Enjoy it anyway.

Once upon a time…

That is how most stories begin, isn't it? The old ones do, anyway. "Once upon a time", or "Long ago".

The best stories begin, "In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit."

But that's irrelevant.

The point is that our story begins, once upon a time if you like, in a tiny, cluttered room with two people in it. These people are named Phoebe and Hannah-Leah. They are our main characters. Pay close attention.

Phoebe is slightly freckled, with dirty blond hair. She has the slightly hopeful look of people who think that everything won't turn out as bad as it could. She is, of course, wrong. She is in a pale blue T-shirt, a jean jacket, and long, pale blue jeans. Her hair is held back by a pale blue headband. Her shoes are pale blue. She is, overall, pale blue.

Hannah-Leah has brown hair in which she has dyed purple streaks. Her eyes are hazel, and suspicious and hard. Her face is deeply red from sunburn. She is in a hot-pink T-shirt screaming the legend FLOWER POWER. Her shorts are dark green, with a pink watermelon sewn onto the front pocket. Her sandals are practical. Her overall impression is complete color clashing.

Now that we've gotten past the introductions, let's spy-I mean listen to, of course, with their absolute permission, would you sign this contract here? thanks-on our friends.

"I still think we should have the movie poster in here," said Phoebe stubbornly.

"Which one?" asked Hannah-Leah tiredly.

"The one with Faramir kissing Eowyn," said Phoebe.

"We've been over this before," Hannah-Leah said patiently. "We are not going to get ourselves a poster of Faramir kissing Eowyn just so you can throw darts at Eowyn's face. I like Eowyn's face just the way it is. There is no need to throw darts at it. You need to control your anger. Chant with me: _Ommmmmmm_…"

"_Ommmmmmm_," Phoebe chanted reluctantly. "_Ommmmmmm_." She looked up suddenly. "How about a one with Eowyn slaying the Nazgul King?"

"No," said Hannah-Leah.

"How about one with Grima lusting after Eowyn?" said Phoebe.

"No," said Hannah-Leah.

"How about one with Eowyn disguised as Dernhelm?" said Phoebe.

"No," said Hannah-Leah.

"How about-" Phoebe began.

"What about _no_ don't you understand?" said Hannah-Leah, rolling her eyes. "No posters of Eowyn. No taking out your anger on Eowyn. No sticking pins in little dolls that look like Eowyn."

"But Faramir is _miiiiiiine_!" wailed Phoebe.

Hannah-Leah grabbed Phoebe by the shoulders and spun her around to face her. "Faramir. Is. Not. Yours. Get it?"

Phoebe gave her puppy eyes. Hannah-Leah's own eyes found their way up to the ceiling. "Valar in the West, Phoebe, won't you shut up about Faramir? Next thing you know, you'll be writing Sue fics."

Even Phoebe was able to laugh at that. "Poor Farry-Warry. He's got to be in the late stages of insanity, with all those fanfictions I've seen. He needs rehab."

"An asylum," laughed Hannah-Leah.

"Somewhere to rest and revive," Phoebe chuckled.

There was the sudden crack of lightning that follows two people having the exact same idea at the exact same time.

Hannah-Leah's and Phoebe's eyes met.

"I have a laptop in back," said Phoebe. "Did you bring the Primmik?"

"Paper to Reality Matter Converter," Hannah-Leah recited with a long-suffering sigh. "PRMC if you must. But _Primmik_? I mean…" She glanced at Phoebe's face. "Yeah, yeah. I brought it."

Much typing and revision later, fourteen sheets of paper were sliding out of the printer in one corner of the small room. Another machine that glimmered with breen **(1)** light was giving off dubious beeps. Hannah-Leah, holding her breath, fed the first sheet of paper into the second thingy.

There was a quiet boom, one that begged you not to notice it, and a quiet burst of gold and silver light that filled the soul with joy, which also begged you not to notice it. The odd thing about things that beg you not to notice them is that they often succeed.

Unfortunately, it's hard to not notice something when the tiny, cluttered room you were standing in is now a huge, mediaeval Great Hall.

"It worked," said Phoebe cheerfully. "Oh goody."

There were thirteen few more quiet booms and flashes, and Phoebe and Hannah-Leah flashed through thirteen more rooms, finally ending up in a generic, bustling kitchen with generic, bustling cooks and maids competing to be the most generic and bustling.

"Nice work," Hannah-Leah told Phoebe approvingly. "I like the floor. Very, you know, clean."

The description of the floor was "shining clean, with the pale smell of cleanliness rising off its clean surface."

"But try a thesaurus next time, huh?" Hannah-Leah added, patting Phoebe on the back.

"Eh," sighed Phoebe as they walked back to the Great Hall. "What now?"

"We need a name," mused Hannah-Leah.

"Ooh! Acronym! Acronym!" Phoebe cried, clapping her hands together.

"Like, Hannahoebe," pondered Hannah-Leah, who was more given to combinations of words than lists. "Or Phoeah."

"Ooh! Ooh!" said Phoebe, jumping up and down with her hand in the air.

Hannah-Leah turned a sarcastic glare on her. "Just spit it out, Fee. You're not in school."

Phoebe cleared her throat. "The Authoritative Society for Providing an Asylum for Characters from Middle-Earth to Protect them from the Awful Fanfictions Inflicted upon Tolkien's Universe and Also for Divorcing Faramir and Eowyn and Marrying Faramir and Phoebe!"

There was a dead silence.

"ASPACMEPAFITUADFEMFP for short," said Phoebe, who didn't recognize a dead silence when she heard one. "Or Aspakmeepafeetooaddfemfip. It's _great_!"

There was some more dead silence.

"We are not," Hannah-Leah said quietly, "setting up a society for you to lust after Faramir some more. We are setting up a noble place where Middle-Earth people can rest and get their bearings. We are joining the fight against Mary Sues and all that comes with them. We are being pure, and true, and trying to set up something real and good. Now shut up about Faramir."

"How about the Noble Place Where Middle-Earth People Can Rest and Get their Bearings that Fights against Mary Sues and All that Comes with Them that is Pure and True and Sets Up Something Real and Good?" inquired Phoebe, who knew a good name when she saw one. "NPWMEPCRGBFSACTPTSUSRG. Nipwimepackergibfisactpitsusrig. It's got a kind of ring to it. Nipwimepackergibfisactpitsusrig. Nipwimepackergibfisactpitsusrig Nipwimepackergibfisactpitsusrig Nipwimepackergibfisactpitsusrig…

Hannah-Leah wacked Phoebe on the head. "How about something shorter?"

"That _was_ short," said Phoebe, looking puzzled. "I could also suggest the Awesomely Awesome Society that Rescues Middle-Earth Characters, Especially-"

"I get the point," said Hannah-Leah. "Your infinitesimal brain can't come up was anything smaller than enormous. What about the Middle-Earth Characters' Asylum?"

"Meckah! Meckah! Meckah!" Phoebe squealed immediately.

Hannah-Leah shrugged. "If you wish. Now, let's start with Bilbo."

**1:** Breenbrown and green combined in the worst possible way.


	2. Thou Shalt Not Say Rainerudhiel

**Disclaimer**: I own LOTR and all that comes with… hands up who thought I wasn't joking. (looks around) Me neither.

Thank you to my one… pitiful… reviewer… I know the rest of you _wanted_ to! You just… kinda… didn't! You didn't have time! Yeah, that's gotta be it…

Anyway, welcome to Chapter Two. Glad you could make it.

.

There was a small, swirling portal to Hell in the laundry room.

"You idiot," Hannah-Leah said in the cold voice that proceeds a volcanic eruption. "Middle-Earth. Not Hell. Middle-Earth. You know, with elves, and hobbits, and huge flaming eyes in the middle of a blackened wasteland. Huh?"

"I got distracted," said Phoebe defiantly, her face the color of a chili pepper.

"How do you get _distracted_?" shouted Hannah-Leah. "What freaking _distraction_ could make you open up a freaking _portal_ to _Hell_?"

"Eowyn," said Phoebe stubbornly.

"You were distracted by _Eowyn_ in the middle of the freaking _laundry room_?"

"The shadow of the stairs looks like her face!"

"You don't know what her face looks like, you idiot! You know what the actress who plays her's face looks like!"

"That's what it looked like!"

"A _shadow_?"

"Yeah!"

"Nuh-uh!"

"Uh-huh!"

"Nuh-uh!"

"Uh-huh!"

"Nuh-uh!"

"Uh-huh!"

Hannah-Leah kicked Phoebe in the shin.

"That _hurt_," said Phoebe, tears welling up in her eyes. "Like, with _hurting_. It _hurt_."

"I'm sorry," said Hannah-Leah, slumping. "I didn't mean it. Look, just… open up a portal to Middle-Earth-_not_ Valinor or the Blessed Isles or Yggdrasil or Mount Olympus, Middle-Earth. Here, how about I blindfold your eyes so you don't get distracted by any shadows or whatever?"

Once the inevitable swirling portal to Valhalla had been opened, there was another fight, Phoebe was blindfolded again, and they had finally got a connection to Middle-Earth, Hannah-Leah dug her copy of Fellowship of the Ring out of her pocket. "Okay," she said. "You have the portal?"

"Portable portal! Portable portal!" squealed Phoebe, clapping her hands together.

"I'll take that as a yes," said Hannah-Leah. "Now, remember. We are in the Shire. You are not to glomp Frodo, Sam, the Gaffer-"

"Ewwww!" said Phoebe, wrinkling her nose. "But the Gaffer is old!"

"So don't glomp him," said Hannah-Leah cheerfully. "We are there to get Bilbo to our asylum-"

"Meckah!" shouted Phoebe.

"-and away from any Sues that are there," Hannah-Leah finished. "Nothing more. And most definitely nothing less."

"_Fine_," said Phoebe dejectedly. "At Bilbo's eleventy-first birthday, and no glomping… what is this _for_, anyway?"

"The protection of the sanity of the characters of Middle-Earth," said Hannah-Leah.

"Rhetorical question, you idiot," said Phoebe, jumping through the portal.

.

The party was exactly as amazing as Tolkien had described. Like, _exactly_. His description was so perfect it was scary.

Of course, that's probably because he was the one who wrote it. But hey, why should a little logic get in the way of a little awe and amazement?

Phoebe and Hannah-Leah trotted amongst the hobbits, wondering at the fireworks bursting in the sky and staring at the sight of all the stars they could see. Hannah-Leah was crying.

"I can't believe we killed the stars," she whispered. "We killed the stars by trying to outshine them. And it worked, and we didn't turn off the lights, and now our human pride is drowning out the stars…"

There was a little clearing towards the edges of the party that was pretty empty. Phoebe led the weeping Hannah-Leah towards it, where they both collapsed on the wet grass, staring at all the stars that human light pollution had killed.

"And the moon," whispered Hannah-Leah. "It's white. Elbereth Gilthoniel, how can we live with making the moon so… not white?" Tears trickled down her face. "How could we have given up the beauty of everything?"

"Look, Lay-lay," Phoebe said gently. "It's beautiful. But you know what the Sues are going to do if they win? They'll build a shopping mall, Lay. In Minas Tirith, and in Rohan, and in the Shire. They'll make a huge, sprawling shopping mall in the middle of Bilbo's eleventy-first birthday party, with huge factories belching smoke into the moon, so they can sit in a deluxe apartment and watch their TVs. They'll cut down the Party Tree so they can build Nordstrom's. They'll cover everything green and real with dead metal, playing out its song until we chuck it on the rubbish heap. That's what mankind chose, Lay. They chose luxury over beauty. They chose their iPods over real life."

Hannah-Leah turned to Phoebe, the light of the moon splintering her tears into shards of glimmering crystal.

"I don't want to go home," she whispered.

Phoebe reached up and held Hannah-Leah's face. "We have to bring Bilbo to the asylum," she said. "Then we'll go home. And we'll turn off the lights."

Hannah-Leah blinked twice, spilling the last unshed tears out of her eyes. "Fee, what on _earth_ are you wearing?"

Phoebe looked down at herself for the first time. She sighed. "Apron," she said. "Skirt. Blouse. Head covering. You're wearing the same, you know. And we're both hobbits. If we wandered around the Shire as 21st-century humans, we'd have more trouble than Legolas at a fangirl meeting."

Wiping her eyes, Hannah-Leah shook her head and coughed. "Okay, where's our man, I mean hobbit?"

Phoebe stood up, jumping up and down in order to be above the heads of the crowd. "Telling a story about the trolls to some miniature hobbits. _Somebody_ is stealing lines from the movie, I'll bet."

Pushing their way through the crowds again, Phoebe and Hannah-Leah eventually spotted Bilbo. "Yep," said Hannah-Leah tiredly. "The exact lines that were in the movie. Wouldn't it be nice if the authors had a little imagination?"

Phoebe responded by settling her skirts behind the jaw-dropped children. "It's only a matter of time," she said quietly. "Canon characters attract Sues like Romeo attracted Juliet. Except, you know, without the true love."

Sure enough, a light, tinkling laugh sounded behind them. "Oh, Father, you do love that story, don't you?" asked an airy voice.

Bilbo's eyes clouded over. "Rainerudhiel!!111111!!111" he stated. "O how i have missed u my daughter!!1111111111111111!!111111111111"

Hannah-Leah's eyelid was twitching as she repeated the name "Rainerudhiel" over and over.

"I'm going to kill the author," Phoebe said quietly. "Hobbit girls were named after flowers and gemstones. They were not named Rye-nair-oo-thee-ell."

The stupid light tinkling laugh sounded again as a hobbit walked to sit beside Bilbo. She had hair the color of the sun, which is actually the color of ultraviolet, and looks white to humans. Her eyes were the color of water, which is clear unless there are bacteria or such in it. Her skin was palely tanned.

"Tanned… palely… not… possible…" Phoebe muttered, shaking as if she were a computer about to go into overload.

Her ears were pointed.

"Oh, let's get this over with," said Hannah-Leah loudly. "Bilbo had no wife. He had no wife who was an elf. Tolkien never mentioned elves having pointed ears. Hobbits were called things like Rosie and Elanor. Bilbo definitely didn't have a daughter. Got it?"

"omg!!111!" stated Rainerudhiel. "who is u?"

"And the sun is ultraviolet, and water is clear, and there's no such thing as palely tanned," said Phoebe, jumping to her feet. She walked over, bending down to grab Bilbo's wrist.

"omg!!111111111111!!" Bilbo stated. "Rainerudhiel plz save me!!111111111111!!"

Phoebe pulled the portable portal out of her apron pocket. "C'mon, Lay, let's get back," she ordered. "My head's going to explode if I see one more one where an exclamation point should be."

They jumped, the portal closing behind them…

…and tumbled out into the laundry room, where the portal was still wide open. Phoebe dusted off her hands. "A job well done, and no mistake," she said, sounding pleased.

"What? Where am I? Who are you? What's going on?" gasped Bilbo.

"Right," said Hannah-Leah. "Bilbo Baggins of the Shire, you have been transported to the Middle-Earth Character's Asylum, or MECA-"

"Meckah-" Phoebe inserted.

"-where you will recover from the effects of the Mary Sues that have been destroying Middle Earth," Hannah-Leah continued, determinedly ignoring Phoebe. "Your stay is free of charge and will last for as long as we wish it to. And we may do whatever we want to do to you. Ha ha ha ha ha." She looked up from the piece of paper she had been reading off of at Phoebe. "I'm going to kill you, Fee, by the way."

Phoebe stuck her tongue out.

"MECA has a full staff who will attend to all your needs," Hannah-Leah went on. "The meals are certified organic, and in a short amount of time, many of your friends will also be brought to the facility. We hope you enjoy your stay." She looked up and smiled. "You're a great character, by the way. Pity about the Ring and all."

"Who _are_ you?" said Bilbo.

"Phoebe Electrum and Hannah-Leah Kerstin," the two chorused. "The founders of-"

"The Middle-Earth Character's Asylum," said Hannah-Leah, as Phoebe said "Meckah." They glared at one another.

"And the retrievers of the characters so they can stay here," Phoebe finished. "Basically, we're us."

Hannah-Leah gestured to the door out of the laundry room. "Your bedroom is the first door on the left. Have fun!"

Once Bilbo had gone, Hannah-Leah turned to Phoebe. "Who are we rescuing now?"

Phoebe shrugged. "It's probably best to keep it small. How about Barliman Butterbur?"

Hannah-Leah snorted. "I'd guess that no Suethors even know who poor Butterbur _is_."

"They always do," Phoebe said, shaking her head. "Let's go get him."

"If you wish," said Hannah-Leah doubtfully. "But remember, every moment that we're rescuing Butterbur is a moment that Faramir is suffering at the hands of Sues." She wiggled her eyebrows.

"Oh shut up," said Phoebe good-naturedly. "C'mon, I think it's lunchtime. The generic head cook probably made roast beef sandwiches."

And, well, how could Hannah-Leah say no to that?

.

Thank you for reading, all you kind future reviewers! (Hint, hint.) Whoever can guess what race the next Sue is makes a small appearance in the next chapter! No, not as the Sue. And no, you only get one guess.

Thank you ever so much for reading AND REVIEWING!! (Did you catch the subtle hint there? Huh? Huh?)


	3. Thou Shalt Not Swear in Sindarin

**Disclaimer**: I own LOTR, J.R.R. Tolkien, the known universe, and my cat. JUST KIDDING, you thick-skulled canon-obsessed maniacs! I don't own any of them except for the known universe! And I don't own David Letterman below, either, or the Piedmont Bird-calling Contest. I only own Phoebe, Hannah-Leah, and Magdalena, but I'm very proud of them. DON'T MAKE FUN OF THEM! (hides in a corner)

Ooo, lots of reviews! _So_ sorry to all of those who wanted me to update, for the long delay! I've been delayed… obviously…

Unfortunately, none of you guessed the new Sue's race, so none of you won a cameo. :( Too bad. This time, if you guess who they go to rescue next, you win a cameo! Yay!

Drum roll, please…

CUT!

Phoebe bit heavily into her roast beef sandwich, teeth crunching through the crispy lettuce. It even tasted green, she mused. And crunchy! The tomatoes tasted red, too, and the mustard tasted yellow! It was pretty lucky the cheese didn't taste orange… or did it? She probed her upper left molar. No, thank goodness. It just tasted cheesy.

"Close. Your. Mouth," said Hannah-Leah, turning her face away.

"Hraa?" asked Phoebe.

"Chew with your mouth closed, you etiquette-less idiot," Hannah-Leah muttered. "I can see things I don't want to."

Phoebe's eyes widened hugely. "Oo an zhee _gosht_?"

"I _meant_ the contents of your mouth," said Hannah-Leah. "But unless you chew a bit less… visually, you'll _be_ one."

Phoebe closed her mouth, swallowing hugely. "Dang. We could have gotten you your own TV show, with interviewers. And David Letterman! Oooh… what if he had the Piedmont Bird-calling Contest on the show? Then we could have Faramir do the call of the blue heron! AND HE WOULD DITCH EOWYN!!"

Hannah-Leah counted to ten, checked her temper, and counted to eighty-six. "NO, YOU IDIOT! Faramir is CANON! He married EOWYN! He loves her UNCONDITIONALLY! It DOESN'T MATTER how HOT he is!!"

Phoebe had the kind of expression that makes therapists hide behind tables. "Meow."

Hannah-Leah broke off in her tirade. "What?"

"Meow," said Phoebe simply. "It's the sound that cat's make. Didn't you know? _I_ learned it in preschool. Ducks say quack! Cows say moo! Moose say überschnortz!"

Bilbo, sitting across from them with cheeseburger untouched on plate, stared.

"Don't worry, Mr. Baggins," said Hannah-Leah kindly. "We're trying to find a medication, but I think she's beyond help."

Bilbo said something.

"What?" said Hannah-Leah.

Bilbo said it again, louder. He was looking confused, and worried, and kind of angry, as if he was coming out of shock.

"Oh, snap," said Phoebe. "He only speaks Westron, remember?"

"But he spoke English… of a sort… back in Middle-Earth!" said Hannah-Leah, looking worried. "Wait. _Snap_? What kind of a cuss word is _snap_? It's right up there with 'poot' and 'darn' and 'son of a gun', I expect?"

"Back in Middle-Earth, he was under the Sue's influence," explained Phoebe, choosing to ignore the "snap" comment. "The whole point of getting him to Meckah-"

"Middle-Earth Character's Asylum," Hannah-Leah said without missing a beat.

Phoebe waved a hand impatiently. "Whatever. The whole point was to remove him from the presence of the Mary Sue. Now she's gone, he's pure canon. He only speaks Westron."

"Do we know _anyone_ who actually _speaks_ Westron?" asked Hannah-Leah, slightly hysterically.

There was a pause where you could almost hear the gears clicking, and then they turned to one another and said instantly, "Magdalena."

.

"Right," said Magdalena sarcastically. "You brought Bilbo Baggins from the Shire to an asylum you built using words alone, he only speaks Westron, and you need someone to teach him English."

Phoebe and Hannah-Leah nodded together.

Magdalena looked them dead in the eye. "What gives you the idea that I even know Westron?"

There was a dead silence.

Magdalena waved a hand. "Okay, stupid question. But why should I even believe Bilbo Baggins is actually in this "asylum" of yours?"

"Ooh! One sec," said Phoebe, and took off running.

Magdalena raised an eyebrow. "Going to get Bilbo, no doubt."

"Honest, Mags, we brought him," said Hannah-Leah. "He's worried and confused, but we brought him. And he speaks Westron."

"_Magdalena_," said Magdalena, with her teeth clenched. "My name is Magdalena Longleaf."

Hannah-Leah looked her up and down. Dyed black hair, skin pale from too much time inside. Black lipstick. Disgusting amounts of mascara. Ripped and torn black skirt and shirt, but clean black leggings, because she was a Good Girl. Black ballet shoes. Humongous black rose behind her ear. Scars on her wrists, carefully drawn with red pen. Tattoo reading "Elrond is a Wiccan". She grinned. "Your name is Margaret Jameson," she said. "Oh, here you are!"

Phoebe appeared from a space near Magdalena's driveway, dragging Bilbo up the path and up Magdalena's stairs. Bilbo shouted something.

Magdalena's jaw dropped. She said something else. Bilbo replied, and they began conversing. Phoebe and Hannah-Leah looked on, confused.

"All right," said Magdalena eventually. "Bilbo's filled in on your deal."

"Oh, _now_ you accept he's Bilbo," said Hannah-Leah smugly.

"No one else within a thousand miles of this place speaks Westron," said Magdalena simply. "Quenya, maybe. Or Sindarin. But not Westron."

"⁪⁪⁪⁪," Bilbo agreed.

"Right," said Phoebe cheerfully. "And now you've got to come and work for us."

"WHAT!" screamed Magdalena.

Hannah-Leah sighed meaningfully. "Told you, Fee."

"Told her what?" said Magdalena suspiciously.

"Mm-hmm," said Phoebe sympathetically. "I knew it."

"What are you doing?" asked Magdalena.

"Too bad," Hannah-Leah sighed. "She missed out."

"Huh?" said Magdalena.

"The adventure," Phoebe murmured.

"The experience," Hannah-Leah agreed.

"The chance to meet Lord Elrond Halfelven up close," they said together.

Magdalena opened her mouth, then closed it, her eyes the size of her head. "Elrond… Halfelven…" Finally she sighed. "⁪⁪ ⁪⁪⁪⁪."

"What?" said Hannah-Leah.

"It's a swear phrase in Sindarin," Magdalena grumbled. "Translating roughly to the effect of 'Your mother is so large, at the time when she visits the Sea, all the large fish swim up to kiss the sand and cry to the darkening sky-"

"We get the point," said Hannah-Leah hastily. "Come on."

Girl, insane girl, hobbit, and wannabe Goth disappeared from Magdalena's front steps.

"Nice place," said Magdalena, surveying the laundry room. "What do we do now?"

"You talk to Bilbo," said Hannah-Leah. "We go off and rescue hobbits."

"And hot Gondorian men," added Phoebe.

Magdalena shook her head admiringly, rolling her eyes. "Blessed be."


	4. Thou Shalt Not Ignore a Application Form

Disclaimer: I'm not dead

**Disclaimer**: I'm not dead. Thus, I'm not Tolkien. I also don't own "Murder by Numbers", by Sting and the Police.

Here's a simple mantra for you to repeat: "If I look, I will read. If I read, I will review. If I do not review, I will wake up with a small but powerful remote-activated bomb implanted in my ear."

Love the rhythm, no?

Anyone can fill out the application form in the chapter. I will add you to MECA's staff, and you will make random appearances from time to time in the story.

Chapter 4

Courtney Bay smiled excitedly. Three reviews!! On "O, Ye of Little Height" alone!! So what if none of them were good?? They were there, and it meant people had noticed!!

It is possible that if one spent too much time with Courtney, one would drown in punctuation.

She pushed her glasses farther up the bridge of her nose and clicked the "Check Mail" button. The computer thought laboriously, and Courtney drummed her fingers on the table impatiently. Stupid machine. She hadn't even had it that long, and it was already acting up.

Finally there were three _bings_ as one Author Alert notice and a message from her BFF Paige arrived. Courtney shivered as she checked out Paige's email. It was a forwarded letter, informing her that if she didn't forward it to at least twelve people in the next day, a dead boy with no eyes or skin would come and kill her at midnight. She sent it to her entire mailing list.

The third message was listed as from The Depths of Fandom. Courtney looked confused. She didn't know anyone named that. The subject matter was "Read and reply. Or Else. Lay-lay, stop scaring them. Stop cluttering up the subject line! Oh, just let's type the email."

It read:

Opportunity of a lifetime!! Join the ranks of the illustrious, in history's great hall of fame. For murder is the sport of the professionals… at least the ones that we all know by name! You BLATANTLY stole that from "Murder by Numbers", Lay! So?

Just fill out our handy-dandy application form, and YOU TOO can rescue extremely hot LOTR characters except for Faramir who belongs to Phoebe!

(Note: you don't actually get to rescue the characters. That's our job.)

Name:

Appearance:

How would you describe yourself?:

What would you like to do in the Middle-Earth Character's Asylum it's Meckah no it's not now shut up?:

Please select one: I am an elf/dwarf/human/hobbit. Unicorns, half-elves, and faeries are NOT OPTIONS.

Lust object:

Luxury object (note: your luxury object cannot be the same as your lust object):

Please fill out the form and enjoy!

Courtney stared at it for exactly one and a half seconds, then clicked DELETE.

Seconds later, her computer exploded.

As did Courtney.

And, incidentally, everything else in her house, except her cat. 'Cause cats are so cool.

.

"That's one delete," Phoebe remarked. "Hope they don't all do that."

"I hope they _do_," said Hannah-Leah evilly. "So that they _explode_, and make thingies go BOOM! And fire. I like things that go boom."

Phoebe shook her head admiringly. "Lay-lay Kerstin, a closet pyromaniac. Who'd a thunk it?"

"Honestly," snorted Hannah-Leah, "what did you think when I was doing experiments with dropping sugar in the toaster?"

"I thought we needed a new toaster," said Phoebe honestly.

"And a new microwave," sighed Hannah-Leah. "But grapes are _fun_ to explode in the microwave! And I read that if you freeze trees, then melt them really fast, they go boom! Because the sap freezes, and then tries to expand."

"…" said Phoebe.

"You ruined my Sacred Circle," said Magdalena reproachfully. "I was burning incense, and creating a Peaceful Atmosphere. The Spirits were Gathering amongst my aura. Then you blew up a potato."

"The Spirits like potatoes," sniffed Hannah-Leah.

"Not if they're blown up," Magdalena growled.

Hannah-Leah sniffled. "I'm so… hurt… My self-esteem… is plummeting…" She drew herself up. "I'm going to go see if strawberries explode in the toaster."


End file.
